The Black Chronicles
by The Dread Pirate Roberts
Summary: Sorry, took this down briefly for some changes. Harry Potter still belongs to J.K. Rowling. What if Sirius Black made a different choice on the fateful Halloween night? How will this affect Harriet Potter's life?
1. In Which Sirius Black Must Decide

In the ruins of a cottage a baby cried. Sirius Black sat up from his hunched position over the body of his best friend and rapidly made his way towards the sound. The feeling of death had lain so thick and cloying over the area that he had assumed that there was no living human in the ruins. He had been wrong, as he followed the sound he could feel a life force burning fiercely in the midst of the death.

Quickly, hardly daring to hope, Sirius picked his way towards what had once been the nursery. He stepped over the body of a lovely flame haired women and there she was, his tiny but wonderfully alive goddaughter.

Sirius scooped her up in his arms. She stopped crying and stared at him out of wide emerald eyes. Sirius didn't waste any time, he picked her up and apparated to Blackmere.

Alphard Black peered through his spell enhanced glasses at the tiny green-eyed baby on the table in front of him and nodded grimly. "That is undeniably a piece of Voldemort's soul" he said.

"I had heard of witches and wizards using familiars as Horcruxes of course but never other humans, it was most certainly an unintentional move on Voldemort's part." He seemed more intrigued than horrified at this manifestation of incredibly dark magic. Sirius sighed impatiently.

"Yes, I had figured that out for myself thanks. I'm more concerned with its removal then the scholarly and historical implications."

Alphard waved a hand. "Yes, yes, I realize that my boy. Allow me a few moments of thought at least, I've never encountered such a thing in my life. The normal course of action would be to destroy the vessel of the horcrux, which is quite impossible in this situation." This was spoken in a distracted tone of voice. Sirius could see that Alphard was already miles away, utterly absorbed by the problem in front of him.

Alphard spent the next half hour running complicated diagnostic tests on Harriet. Glowing lights erupted from the girl, lights were shone into her eyes, and webs of magic were woven around her lighting up in different colours while Alphard scribbled notes on the parchment in front of him. Sirius only understood half of the tests administered. Finally Alphard waved his wand over Harriet, dispelling the magic surrounding Harry. Then he met Sirius's eyes gravely.

"The only way to remove the soul fragment would be for Harriet Potter to cease to exist" he said.

Sirius jumped up and drew Harriet into his arms protectively. When he began to speak it was in a low and deadly voice. "I refuse to kill her or allow her to be killed by anyone. I'll murder anyone who tries."

"Clean your ears out boy! Did I say kill her? I said that _Harriet Lily Potter_ must cease to exist." Alphard retorted with some asperity.

Sirius collapsed back into his seat. "You mean change her in such a fundamental way that she is no longer Harriet Potter and then removing the fragment while its hold on her soul was destabilized" he said is shocked tones. "That's incredibly dangerous."

Alphard nodded. "The least risky method would be a blood adoption" he said. Sirius nodded thoughtfully. He could see the benefits, a safe and much less dark option then any others that came to mind. Furthermore, the change of identity would give her some measure of anonymity, protection against any Death Eaters who wished to revenge themselves on the young savior.

"We'll have to do it fast if while the bonds between the fragment and her soul are still weak" he mused.

"Yes" said Alphard. He met Sirius's eyes steadily. The two men communed silently for a moment. They were interrupted by someone pounding on the door to the house

"I'll get it. Anyone who knows anything about the Potter's protections will assume that you were their secret keeper. In fact the ministry is probably looking for you at this very moment."

Sirius gritted his teeth. "Someday I'll kill Peter" he growled.

"Don't be an idiot! _Stay here_" hissed his uncle. Sirius nodded his assent. Reassured, Alphard shut the door to his workroom and locked it. Then he headed to see who could be knocking at this time of night.

Remus Lupin was having the worst night of his life, which, considering his lycanthropy, was saying something. He had been just about to sit down in front of his fireplace with a cup of tea and a book when the flames had flared and there was Dumbledore informing him that Voldemort was gone but that he was needed in Godric's Hollow immediately.

The grave look in Dumbledore's normally cheerful blue had sent Remus jumping to his feet and apparating to Godric's Hollow. What he found there would haunt him for the rest of his life.

James and Lily's house was little more then a smoking ruin. It reeked of smoke and dark magics. The first body Remus saw had been James's. His had not been a quick death. Every sign pointed to James having put up a fight and as a result his remains lay scattered and bloody around what had once been his living room. Remus had only just stopped himself from throwing up.

Lily's body had been unmarked and pristine. She looked as if she had simply gone to sleep. Only the unnatural pallor of her skin suggested the truth. Somehow the sight of her, with it's verisimilitude of life, had been worse then James's considerably more gruesome remains. Remus had stepped around her toward the cradle where Harriet had slept, sick with dread, only to be confronted with nothing. The cradle was empty.

The smell that clung to the blankets gave him his answer, Sirius had been here. Dumbledore who had been standing silent at his side throughout his journey through what had been the home of his best friends now began to speak in a gentle voice.

"Sirius was their secret keeper, as you well know. Only he could have revealed the Potter's location."

Remus felt like the foundations of his world were shaking. James and Lily were dead, Harriet had disappeared. Now it wounded as if Dumbledore was implying that Sirius was a traitor but that was impossible- wasn't it? In this new and uncertain world Remus wasn't sure. After all a world where people as alive, as wonderful as James and Lily had been could be dead wasn't a world that made much sense. At least not to Remus.

"He… he couldn't have. He would have _died_ before betraying James and… and he would never hurt Harriet, _never_."

Dumbledore looked sympathetic.

"I wouldn't believe it either my boy but James himself told me that Sirius was his secret keeper."

Remus nodded slowly.

"I know" he said heavily. "That's what he told me as well."

Abruptly he brought his mind back to what was important.

"I suppose you need my help finding where Sirius took Harry."

Dumbledore nodded affirmative. "His motorcycle was found parked just outside the cottage on the front lawn. All signs point to him having apparated out of here with Harry. You would know best where to start looking for him."

Remus nodded sharply and then frowned. "Wait a minute… I'm not the only one who would know where to look for Sirius. Where's Peter?"

"He isn't at his house or in any of his usual haunts" Dumbledore replied. "Nor has he responded to summons. I have not been able to locate him."

Remus found this slightly worrying but it wasn't uncommon for Peter to disappear. He had always been that way. Even at Hogwarts he had been prone to wandering off to mysterious places and refusing to divulge his whereabouts. Peter had always been a private person. Instead he turned his mind to more pressing issues.

"I'll ask Alphard if he knows anything of Sirius's whereabouts. He always understood Sirius better then most." And with those last words he apparated away.

Remus pounded furiously on the door of Blackmere, Sirius's ancestral home and the home of the only family member he was still in contact with. He fought down exhaustion, shock and rising hysteria. If he gave in to his emotions and his fatigue now he would fall apart, something he couldn't afford at that present moment. Grieving for Lily and James could wait, wondering where Peter had disappeared to and hating Sirius could wait too. Right now Harry was missing and Remus _needed_ to find her.

The strong dark wooden door swung open, revealing Alphard, tired and harried with dark purple bags under his eyes.

"Remus! What an unexpected surprise" he said, but Remus was already moving. Swiftly he grabbed the unwary Alphard and pushed through the doorway, wand resting on his throat.

"I should have known that you would be sheltering him" he snarled. "Don't think I can't smell him, werewolf nose, remember?" Alphard swallowed hard.

"Remus, please, things aren't what you think they are. Take a minute to truly smell… Sirius isn't the only one here" he said softly. Remus took a sniff and caught another smell, the tang of a wet diaper, the soft, warm smell of a small child, the acrid smell of smoke and dark magic, _Harry_. He dropped Alphard and followed the smell at a run down the dim hallway to a locked and well warded door, Alphard's workroom. He took out his wand ready to blast the door apart.

A voice spoke softly behind him.

"Stop." Alphard had his wand pointed directly at Remus. Remus froze for a split second. The hesitation cost him dearly. He spun around curse at his lips, only to have his wand spin out of his hand, while ropes wrapped themselves around his wrists and ankles, snapping them together and forcing him to fall to the floor on his back- hard.

"I'm sorry to do this to you Remus" Alphard's voice continued, "but I can't let you go in until you've heard some things. In your current state you could hurt someone"

"That was the general idea" Remus snarled back. He could feel panic and rage overtaking him. Harry was locked in that room with Sirius and he couldn't get to her. The thought set a fresh bolt of panic through his body. He struggled furiously against his bonds.

"Remus!" Alphard snapped "Listen to me!"

The sharp tone cut through the haze of panic that had filled Remus's mind. He stilled and looked up at Alphard.

"Sirius wasn't their secret keeper."

The words were spoken in a calm, flat tone as if Alphard was thoroughly convinced of their truth. "What, is that what he told you? And you actually believe him?" Remus laughed bitterly. "He was their secret keeper… James told me so himself."

"I know my nephew Remus Lupin" Alphard said in level tones. "He would never betray James and Lily, think for a moment, who else could have been secret keeper?"

"James trusted Sirius more then anyone else in the world Alphard, of course he was secret keeper." Alphard shook his head or at least Remus thought he did, it wasn't easy to tell from his angle looking up from the ground. "Sirius was going to be secret keeper but he thought it would be too obvious. Instead he elected to act as a decoy. Peter was the secret keeper. He was the traitor."

The last sentence was spoke in dark, angry tones.

Remus scoffed. "Are you sure that isn't just something that Sirius made up to convince you to help him. What are the chances of-" he stopped as various things he had learned tonight, as well as things that he had known for years, his knowledge of Peter and Sirius both, came together. Peter was the secretive one, the man who clung to those who were more powerful than him, the coward. Peter was missing. He had disappeared at odd times over the course of the last year and had been curiously tight lipped about where he had been when questioned. _If anyone had been acting like a spy in the past year it had been Peter not Sirius._

Remus looked up at Alphard shakily.

"Take me to Sirius and Harry. I want to be sure Harry is safe and I want to hear what you just told me from Sirius himself."

Alphard nodded and released his arms and legs. Remus climbed stiffly to his feet, tiredness and grief as well as the fall he had just taken were beginning to take their.

Alphard strode swiftly around Remus and opened the door to his workroom, gesturing to Remus to enter first. Remus stepped through, wand in hand, into Alphard's clean and warmly lit workshop.

The first thing he saw was Sirius looking haggard and devastated. Sirius had been looking nervously at the door and when their eyes met he looked down, guilt and sorrow etched into his face. The nights events seemed to have aged him ten years. He looked awful. In fact he probably resembled Remus himself a great deal. This more then anything else reassured Remus. There was simply too much grief in Sirius's eyes for him to have been the traitor. Then his eyes fell to the small child lying in Sirius's arms. Harriet looked tired and cranky, as if she had been up far too late and only wanted to go to bed. Other than that she looked healthy and safe. Her face lit up when she saw Remus and she held out a hand in his direction. "Moo'y" she cried.

Remus felt relief flood through his body. Prickling warm gathered behind his eyes and he found himself struggling to contain tears. Despite the grief and shock of the past night he found his face stretching into a wide smile. He dropped his wand on Alphard's workroom table and stumbled across the room and scooped her out of Sirius's arms, hugging her close. He breathed in the reassuring scent of a small unharmed child. Once again he caught a whiff of her diaper. He wrinkled his nose.

"What sort of godfather are _you_ Sirius, can't you tell she need her diaper changed?" The gentle scolding made Sirius flushed a dull red.

"Between removing her from the ruins of James and Lily's cottage and getting Alphard to check her for any sort of curse I haven't had the time!" he exclaimed somewhat defensively.

However, he sounded relieved that Remus was back to scolding him as opposed to trying to murder him. Remus shook his head and placed Harry on the large wooden table that dominated Alphard's workroom and proceeded to strip and scourigify both the child and the wet cloth diaper. It wasn't a permanent solution, they would need to wash the diaper properly, but it would do as a stop gap until they could buy new diapers and wash the current one with water and soap. Then he handed Harry back to Sirius and went to wash his hands at the workroom sink.

As he washed his hands Sirius began to speak in a low, hesitant voice.

"Moony… I'm… I'm so sorry. Sorry for not trusting you with the information that Peter was secret keeper. _Sorry for_ _trusting the little rat_."

His voice became almost a growl by the end and Harry stirred uneasily. Sirius soothed by rocking her gently against his chest, murmuring wordless reassurances. Harry gradually calmed down, nodding off gently in Sirius's arms.

Remus had been standing silently at the sink, his shoulders hunched in and tense and his back to Sirius. He began to speak in low tones. "It's alright it became really hard to trust there for a while. Friends turning on friends-" his voice choked off.

"Even so" Sirius said firmly "that's no excuse. I was wrong." Remus nodded. "Yes." Silence filled the room but it was a comfortable one even considering the events of the night. Sirius and Remus's friendship had always been curiously resilient, surviving even Sirius's betrayal in fifth year.

Sirius cleared his throat uneasily, breaking the silence. "Remus… there are other things you need to know… problems with Harry."

Remus spun around, making eye contact with Sirius for the first time since he had first entered the room. "What? Sirius what's wrong?" Panic once again crept into his voice.

Sirius took a deep breath "What do you know about horcruxes?"


	2. Friends and Enemies in the Making

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

_10 years later_

Altair Black woke up to a tremendous crash. She flung herself out of bed and ran downstairs into the bright and airy kitchen. Padfoot was spelling bits of plate of the floor, a low stream of profanities issuing from his mouth. Moony looked on in amused resignation.

Altair pushed wild, inky dark hair out of her eyes and yawned widely. "Really Padfoot? At—" she checked the antique and beat up clock on the wall "Seven in the morning? Couldn't you have restrained your clumsiness for another hour?"

Sirius shot his daughter a dark look. No eleven year old should have been able to inject so much wry amusement into her voice. She had obviously been spending far too much time with Remus lately. Then he smiled evilly.

He began to speak in mock solicitous tones "I just thought, since you're headed to Hogwarts at eleven, that you should get up extra early today. As Ben Franklin wisely said "Early to bed and early to rise—"

Remus sighed in a mock exasperation "Now Padfoot, what have I told you about thinking? It isn't your strong suit and anyway it only gives you headaches."

Sirius made a face at Remus "Now Remus what have I told you about attempting to be witty? It only makes you look stupid and gives the rest of us headaches." Altair rolled her eyes, they were off. At least it looked as if Sirius was making pancakes.

A hand fell lightly onto her shoulder and she turned around to meet Uncle Alphard's exasperated slate grey eyes. "Are they already at it? And at seven o'clock in the morning?" He questioned. Altair grimaced. "Like school boys."

Alphard sighed "I'm going to need coffee if I'm going to have to listen to them." Altair nodded and navigated around the shards of pottery that still had yet to clean up. She opened up the cupboard, took down two mugs, and filled them both with coffee from the french press. Then she poured some milk into her cup, leaving Alphard's black, and made her way back to her uncle.

As she passed Sirius he broke off his argument with Remus and plucked the mug of deftly from her hands. Ignoring her complaints, he took a sip, closing his eyes in bliss. "What have I told you about drinking coffee?"

Altair rolled her eyes for the second time in the space of five minutes and passed Alphard his mug, muttering under her breath about parents who couldn't seem to decide between being school boys or responsible adults.

Remus smiled slightly "How about you have some tea instead? I brewed a pot only a few minutes ago. It's still hot."

"Alright" Altair grumbled "but I don't see why I can't have coffee." She shot Sirius and dirty look Sirius stared sternly back at her. "You're too young for coffee" he scolded, "It will stunt your growth." Altair snorted but did not pursue the subject.

"Anyway," Remus interjected "are you finished packing?" Altair nodded "Yeah, I finished last night." Remus smiled "Good. Are you excited to go to Hogwarts?"

At this point Sirius began to look more and more sour. He had strenuously objected to Altair's decision to go to Hogwarts. Sirius had wanted her to go to Beauxbatons or be home schooled instead. Sirius worried that she would be treated badly at Hogwarts because of the notoriety attached to the Black name.

Despite their best efforts, Remus and Sirius had been unable to find evidence that would clear Sirius' name. Peter had effectively disappeared the night that the Potters had been killed and neither Sirius nor Remus' best efforts at locating him had yielded anything. In light of this they had kept Sirius' location secret from everyone, even Dumbledore.

Instead they had put out rumors that Sirius had fled the country and was currently searching for Voldemort in the forests of Albania. They had put out a story that Altair was the illegitimate daughter of Sirius Black and Electra Malfoy. The story was perfect. Electra Malfoy had run away from home to Southern France at around the same time period that Altair would have been conceived and then died in a boating accident a year later. She had never disclosed her reasons for running away, even to her family, leaving pregnancy a convincing option. This as well as the fact that she was dead made her the perfect candidate for Altair's mother. The Ministry of Magic wanted little to do with the child of a supposed notorious death eater like Sirius Black and was therefore willing to allow Remus and Alphard to take legal custody of Altair.

Remus had taken a job at Gringotts while Sirius had devoted himself to his studies into defensive magic, spell creation, and of course being Altair's father. Something that Remus derived endless amusement out of. After all, who would have pegged Sirius for the Mr. Mom type?

Necessity dictated that Sirius never leave Blackmere except in the form of the friendly family dog, Snuffles, leaving Sirius in the role of a father. Alphard and Remus, meanwhile, became the doting uncles and tutors for Altair. Teaching her about whatever caught her interest in the Black library, from Potions, to spell theory, to runes and history. Sirius often jokingly bemoaned the fact that they were turning his daughter into a complete Ravenclaw, conveniently forgetting his own scholarly pursuits.

"You know it isn't to late to change your mind?" Sirius questioned worriedly "We could home school you for this year and then reenroll you in Beauxbatons for the next year."

Altair shook her head. "I've been waiting to go to Hogwarts since I was a little kid" she said firmly. " I assure you, I'm not changing my mind. I'm perfectly capable of defending myself. And anyway I've never been what you might call a social butterfly, I won't be needing many friends."

Remus snorted at what could be called the understatement of the century. Altair had always been worryingly antisocial. She had little patience for her peers or really anyone and had always been quite happy to be left alone by other children. The problem was that Altair was usually miles ahead of most people she met intelligence-wise. She was quick, observant, intense, and endlessly curious. Furthermore, she was absolutely relentless in the pursuit of whatever she happened to want at any given moment. This combination of unnerving brilliance, intense and obsessive focus, and a disregard for those who got between her and her goals tended to scare off most adults let alone children her own age.

In fact this was what had made Remus so adamant that she go away to school instead of staying at home. She clearly wasn't learning much about normal human interaction at home. The close environment filled with eccentric and strong personalities was obviously not teaching her what she needed to know, so boarding school it was and of course Altair had insisted on Hogwarts. Well it was her decision and the truth was that Altair was eminently suited to defending herself verbally and physically. Remus was more inclined to worry about the people who tried to harass her than he was Altair. She would survive school.

Remus was broken from his reverie by Sirius shoving a plate of pancakes in front of his nose.

"Ground control to Remus, ground control to Remus," he teased. Remus reached out and snatched the plate out of Sirius' hands. "You're a menace," he grumbled. Sirius smirked "And you love it."

"Not unless love has suddenly taken on a new meaning known only to you" Remus sniped back.

"Boys- _boys_" said Alphard. "Please at least let me finish my coffee before you start arguing again." Sirius and Remus turned amused looks at him. "Very well Alphard, for you" said Remus.

Altair smiled into her pancakes. She would miss listening to Padfoot and Moony argue over pretty much everything and the constant prank wars that accompanied the arguments- but not enough to stay at home instead of going to Hogwarts.

An hour later they were rushing around the house in a panic loading, cleaning up the kitchen, getting dressed and showered, gathering trunk and familiar (Hedwig, Altair's snowy owl), in the front entrance hall. By nine o'clock they were gathered together in the entrance hall to apparate onto the platform. Even Sirius was going in the form of Padfoot.

Alphard apparated Sirius and Altair's luggage while Remus took charge of Altair. They appeared in the middle of platform. Children and teenagers ran and shrieked around them. Chattering to friends they had missed over the summer, clinging to mothers and fathers, hugging and laughing. The platform rang with the babble of human voices, the shrieks of owls and the yowling and meowing of cats. It pulsed with the nervous energy of hundreds of students and parents.

In the midst of this chaos stood the Hogwarts Express, shining and scarlet coloured. Remus watched Altair, she stood straight, tall, and collected and yet her body thrummed with energy and curiosity. Her eyes darted everywhere taking in the colourful families and familiars, the large, high ceilinged room, and the bright, jaunty train that dominated the scene.

Kneeling she hugged Padfoot goodbye, laughing when he licked her face. Then she stood up and smiled nervously at Remus and Alphard. "You'll be fine" Remus assured her. "You'll adore Hogwarts, I know I did."

Alphard nodded in agreement. "Work hard" he reminded her. "_And don't forget to write._" Altair nodded. "I won't" she assured them. Then with one more hug for Sirius and a hug for both Alphard and Remus she was gone.

Remus, Sirius and Alphard watched, bereft, as Altair climbed onto the train and with a brief wave was gone. The Hogwarts Express emitted a long whistle and soon there was a crush of students piling onto the Express and then five minutes later it was moving out. Remus, Sirius and Alphard stayed there, standing on the platform until the express was only a distant red blur and then apparated home feeling old and depressed.

Hermione Granger was having a _very_ overwhelming day. That wasn't to say that she had been unprepared for it. On the contrary, Hermione had meticulously memorized her course books, and read up on the recent (and not so recent history) of Hogwarts and the wizarding world. Hermione had even subscribed to the Daily Prophet, she had found the paper to be much more entertaining than its muggle counterparts with its moving pictures and bold headlines but had suspected, in reading it, that its reporters focused more on sensationalism than accuracy. In short, she had done absolutely everything she could to prepare herself for the wizarding world_ so why was she so terrified?_

This was what was running through her mind as she dragged her trunk (trunk? Who even used trunks anymore) down the train's corridor, searching for an empty compartment. Finally she decided on a compartment empty but for one small girl, presumably and first year.

The girl was bent over a sketchbook with an intensity that suggested that the book was her entire world or at least the most interesting thing in it at that present moment. Every once in a while she would look out the window and then return to scribbling away in the notebook.

Hermione used the girl's distraction to take a look at her. She was dressed in curiously anachronistic and mismatched clothes, sturdy black leather, lace-up boots, a ratty and oversized oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and loose dark tweed trousers. She was of average height and skinny, with a mane of thick, glossy hair the color of ink and pale skin. Her features were thin and strong. Hermione cleared her throat softly to announce her presence and the girl looked up sharply fixing her in place with clear blue-gray eyes.

Hermione squared her shoulders gave the girl her most confident smile, she _would_ make friends at this school, she would _fit in_. Hermione refused to be the unpopular know-it-all at this new school- not again.

"May I sit here?" she asked. She had been trying for confident and relaxed but was afraid that it had come out as bossy and annoying. The girl stared coolly back at her, confirming her fears, but shrugged. "Feel free," she said indifferently, returning to her sketchbook.

This wasn't precisely the invitation that Hermione was looking for but she supposed that it was better than outright hostility or contempt. She dragged her trunk up onto one of the luggage racks and sat down opposite the drawing girl. Silence stretched awkwardly between them.

Finally Hermione could bear it no longer "My name's Hermione Granger" she blurted out. "I'm a first year. I was _ever_ so pleased and excited to get my letter, my parents are dentists, you see. I'm a muggleborn so I've been trying to prepare, I'd never even heard of the wizarding world before this summer. I've memorized all my course books and Hogwarts a History and of course I've been reading up on the history of the wizarding world. I just hope all of that is enough." The words came out in a frantic rush. Hermione could feel the heat gathering in her face as she spoke.

The girl just stared at her eyebrows raised. She didn't look very friendly, just impatient and annoyed. Finally she seemed to deign to respond.

"I'm Altair Black," she said. She spoke in low, clipped tones, as if she could barely be bothered to respond to Hermione and Hermione found herself getting angry. Was it because she was muggleborn? Who was this girl to act as if Hermione was beneath her? Frowning she rummaged through her book bag and pulled out "A Study in Emerald", one of the muggle books that she had packed in among all the accoutrements of magic, and immersed herself in the adventures of Holmes and Watson. Let the girl look down on her because of her muggle background. What did she care?

Just then the compartment door banged open and a short, round faced boy scrambled inside, dragging his trunk along behind him, panting and red-faced. "S-s-sorry" he mumbled. "Malfoy and his goons have been chasing me up and down the corridor. My name's Neville Longbottom" He sounded even more nervous and shy than Hermione felt and certainly hid it less effectively than her. Hermione found herself feeling sorry for the boy.

"My name's Hermione Granger" she offered kindly. "Who's Malfoy?" Neville opened up his mouth to respond but was unexpectedly cut off by the previously reticent Altair.

"Malfoy's a bullying git," she said in fierce tones. "His dad has a lot of money and influence over at the Ministry and he thinks that gives him the right to act however he wants. As a muggleborn you'll want to stay out of his way. He's a pureblood, thinks muggleborns, halfbloods, squibs, anyone who isn't "pure" is scum." Then as abruptly as she had spoken Altair returned to her sketchbook.

Neville nodded, apparently agreeing with the assessment. "So are you a muggleborn then? Was that why he was chasing you?" Hermione inquired. Neville shook his head timidly "Nah, he'd probably call me a bloodtraitor" and then, catching Hermione's confused look, hastened to explain. "A pureblood that doesn't buy into that blood purity nonsense."

Hermione felt lost in a bewildering welter of wizarding traditions and prejudices. What was with the obsession with blood? Was she in danger as a muggleborn? Neville noticed her worried expression.

"Don't worry, only a small minority of wizards and witches still believe in blood purity" he assured her. "A rich and influential minority" Altair Black interjected dryly, not even looking up from her drawing. Neville sent her a frightened glance and promptly shut up.

The compartment once again fell silent. Hermione, once again, felt baffled, unable to figure out was going on. Why was Neville so frightened of Altair? Slightly desperately she began talking about Hogwarts, classes and houses, which subject sounded most interesting, which house she wanted to get into et cetera, et cetera. To her relief Neville shyly joined in.

They quickly they fell to discussing school and family. Hermione questioned Neville about the wizarding world and listened in astonishment as Neville described how his family had realized that he had magic, slightly shocked that anyone would dangle a child in their care out of a window and then drop them. Her own stories didn't seem nearly as fascinating by comparison but Neville listened transfixed to her descriptions of cars, airplanes and other muggle inventions. Altair contributed nothing but seemed to be listening just as avidly to Hermione's descriptions of the muggle world.

Halfway through Hermione's description of a television a snobbish looking boy with pale blond hair barged into the compartment. Two large but stupid looking boys flanked him. Neville squeaked and turned white but the pale haired boy totally dismissed her and Neville. His attention was focused entirely on Altair. Hermione looked between Neville and the pale boy and swiftly put two and two together, _Malfoy_, she thought, disgusted.

She drew herself up as magnificently as a possible and asked him in her most haughty voice "What do _you _want? Don't you realize that barging in here is extremely rude?" Malfoy shot a brief sneer in her direction but otherwise ignored her completely, increasing her dislike for exponentially. He addressed Altair.

"Father told me that you would be at Hogwarts this year Black" he announced. His voice had an unpleasant, sneering tone to it. As if nothing he saw pleased him. Altair looked at him a politely disinterested expression on her face. "He said that you might need some guidance as to the appropriate sorts of people to associate with." He shot a contemptuous glance at Neville and Hermione. Neville shrunk back with fear but Hermione could feel herself bristling. Her fingers itched to take out her wand and curse him.

"I can see he was right" Malfoy continued, contemptuously. "I can help you with that. Some wizards are better than others; you just need to learn which is which. I'm Malfoy by the way. Draco Malfoy." He stuck out his hand to Altair expectantly.

Altair stared coldly at Malfoy's hand until he lowered it, unnerved. Then finally Altair spoke. "I think I can tell the right sort for myself thanks" she said simply.

Malfoy flushed. "You're just as arrogant as your father Black" he spat. "Rejecting your heritage! Don't think I'll forget it." Altair shrugged. "I suppose I'll just have to survive without your no doubt riveting company." She said wryly. "I wonder how I will bear the lack."

The sarcasm in her voice was unmistakable. Draco Malfoy's face worked in impotent fury. Words failed him and he stormed out humiliated and furious.

"Well!" huffed Hermione "I'm glad he's gone." Neville too wore a look of relief. Altair simply put away her sketching and began to change into her school robes. "We'll be arriving soon" was all she said. Hermione nodded and pulled her robes over her head. Neville followed suit.

Half an hour later they pulled to a stop. It was pitch dark out. By now Hermione's stomach felt full of butterflies. Neville, as the more nervous of the two, looked like he was about to be sick. Even Altair looked slightly apprehensive.

The three of them stepped out into the corridor and into the press of students exiting the train.


	3. Arrivals, Sortings, and Murmurs

00:49

Disclaimer:

Not JKR, not even close.

It was dark and cold outside of the train. Dim outlines of a craggy castle and thick forest loomed forbiddingly in the distance. A black lake gleamed with pinpoints of light, reflections of the stars. The overall affect was wild, magical, and timeless, as if the scene might have remained the same hundreds of years in the past and would remain so centuries to come.

Which, reflected Altair, was probably accurate. Therefore it was something of a relief to hear a great voice shouting "FIRS' YEARS! FIRS' YEARS! THIS WAY!," The figure that the voice emanated from was far from reassuring with his huge size, half giant perhaps?, and his wild black beard and hair. Nonetheless she made her way over to him.

Hermione and Neville followed close behind her. Both seemed intimidated by their first sight of Hogwarts. She was too of course but damned if she was going to show it. Anyway, her father and uncles would never have sent her to Hogwarts if they didn't believe her reasonably safe and she took comfort in this fact.

The wild man stood by a thin and damp looking path that seemed to lead into the dark forest. He waited patiently for all the first years to straggle over. Altair could hear the hushed and fearful whispers emanating from the crowd of tiny children.

"_Do you think he's dangerous?" "What is he?" "Will we be going into the forest?"_ Finally the last first years arrived and the wild man cleared his throat loudly. Instant silence fell.

"Alrigh' I'm Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds here at Hogwarts, an' I'll be takin' yeh up ter the Castle. We'll be crossin' the Lake so yeh'll need ter follow me." And with that Hagrid began walking down the path, calling behind his should every once in a while to remind the first years "ter stick tergether and not fall behind."

The path they took was damp, winding and uneven. Clumsy Neville fell at least twice. Altair managed to stay on her feet more by luck than anything else. Out into the forest, just off the path leaves and branches rustled and somewhere off the path something moved. Altair stared into the forest looking in vain for whatever was out there but never saw anything.

Before long they found themselves on the shores of the huge black lake. In front of the a fleet of row boats lacking oars had beached themselves on the shore. They seemed to be waiting expectantly for passengers, themselves, Altair supposed.

"Alrigh' kids!" Hagrid called "three to a boat yeh hear, and no pushin'. I don't want be fishin any o' yeh out o' the water. It's cold at this time o' year."

By tacit agreement, Altair, Neville and Hermione climbed into a boat together, huddling in the center in search of a dry spot. Hagrid took a boat to himself and tapped what appeared to be a bright pink umbrella on the bag of his boat. As one the boats lurched into motion, startling cries out of several of the more jumpy first years.

Altair watched, captivated as the castle loomed closer and closer. The boat glided smoothly over the cold black water. Finally the bottom to boat scraped a rough, gravely beach. The children clambered out of their boats, damp and shivering. Hagrid led them up a narrow, rocky path to the castle.

He took them through a small wooden door set in a tall stone wall into a large stone courtyard. They crossed the courtyard and stopped in front of a set of impressive, metal studded oak doors. An iron knocker was set three quarters of the way up the door. Hagrid seized it and banged on the door— once, twice, three times and stepped back.

A few minutes later the doors were thrown open by a stern, black haired witch in emerald green robes. She addressed Hagrid in brisk tones. "Thank you Hagrid, I can take them from here."

Hagrid nodded respectfully and stepped back allowing the stream of first years to flow past him into a cavernous entrance hall. Sound was magnified in the giant space so that even the smallest clap of someone's foot on the flagstone floor was magnified. At one end huge double doors— behind which one could hear the murmur of hundreds of students— were set into thick stone walls, at the other end was a huge sweeping stone staircase leading up into the upper levels of the castle. Once everyone was inside and the doors were shut the stern woman turned to address them in ringing tones.

"My name is Professor McGonagall. I will be one of your teachers here at Hogwarts. Now, in a few minutes you'll be called into the hall to sorted into your houses. The sorting is very important because while you are here your houses will be like your family. You will eat, sleep and study with your housemates. Here at Hogwarts, we have four houses: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. Each house has its own illustrious history. During the year the house compete for house points. Your endeavors can win and lose points so try to be a credit to your house. Now neaten yourselves up a bit— yes I mean you there in the back, tuck your shirt in— and then we'll head into the great hall." With her speech done she turned towards the huge doors leading out of the hall and fell silent.

Altair turned to study year mates. Most seemed to be discussing what the sorting entailed. A tall redheaded boy saying something about trolls, causing most around him to blanch in fear. Altair doubted it was anything dangerous, she rather thought her father and uncles would have warned her if this were the case, but she could not help but feel apprehensive. She forcibly pushed her nervousness aside. To her amusement Hermione was the color of milk. She had eyes clenched shut and seemed to be muttering spells under her breath. Presumably, she thought that the sorting was some sort of test. Neville, on Hermione's other side (he had made sure to keep Hermione between him and her ever since they had met on the train), was a faint greenish shade and looked like he couldn't decide whether to puke or to faint and had therefore compromised by freezing up completely.

A sharp word from McGonagall, who must have heard something that they had not, had them falling into an orderly line. McGonagall then threw the doors to the Great Hall open and marched through. Altair found herself walking up the center of the hall surrounded in each side by tables full of older students. The older children watched them, muttering as they walked by. Altair straightened her shoulders, raised her head, and called her most calm expression to her face— she refused to let _kids_ intimidate her.

Finally they stopped just short of the high table, which was set up on a raised platform overlooking the students. Sitting at the high table were the Professors, Sirius, Remus and Alphard had told Altair about the ones that they knew. As a result Altair was immediately able to recognized the tall white bearded old man with twinkling blue eyes and half-moon spectacles as Albus Dumbledore. The greasy haired and hook nosed man with cold black eyes was also recognizable— the Potions master, Severus Snape. Flitwick and Sprout, too, were easily picked out. However the nervous looking young man, wearing a turban was not. She decided that he was probably the Defense Professor. Everyone knew that Hogwarts had trouble holding on to them. Forcing them to rehire a Defense Professor at the beginning of each year.

Severus Snape seemed to notice her studying his face because he turned his cold gaze on her. Recognition and then hatred flickered through his eyes— _great_ he hated her already. This wasn't terribly shocking, after all her father had spent a good portion of his school career making the man's life miserable, but she had rather hoped that he might refrain from taking his hatred of her family out on her. She could see many miserable Potions classes in her future. Which was disappointing, Potions was one of her favorite subjects.

Tearing her gaze away from Professor Snape she focused instead on the tattered and disreputable looking hat that sat on a stool in a place of honor directly in the center of the room between the high table and the various house tables. Everyone's attention seemed to fixed upon it. The hall fell silent. Presently a long rip at the brim open up and, to the shock of the muggleborn first years, began to sing.

_You may not think I'm pretty_

_But don't judge by what you see_

_I'll eat myself if you can find a smarter hat than me_

_You may keep your bowlers, black_

_And you top hats, sleek and tall_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting hat _

_And I could cap them all!_

The hat then went on for several more verses to describe its creation at the hands of the founders. Its purpose (to sort them) and of course the houses themselves. Gryffindor, it said, was brave and chivalrous, Ravenclaw, intelligent, Hufflepuff, fair and hardworking and Slytherin, ambitious and resourceful.

When the song had ended McGonagall took a list from her pocket and announced in ringing tones that the first years were to come up in the order that they were called. When she started at the top of the alphabet with Abbot, Hannah (HUFLEPUFF!), Altair knew that her turn would be soon.

She could immediately tell when McGonagall got to her name from the way that McGonagall's nostrils flared and her mouth pursed on seeing her name, people often had this reaction to the Black name, the wizarding world had been horrified but not terribly shocked by her father's supposed betrayal, in their eyes he was a Black and expected to go bad.

However, anyone who had known her father well had been furious and shocked. None who had ever known him personally had ever forgiven him for what they perceived as an unforgivable betrayal. Mastering herself McGonagall open her mouth.

"Black, Altair!"

Instantly muttering erupted throughout the room. Some of her year mates recoiled minutely. Altair felt the familiar surge of rage and shame. She kept her face as impassive as possible. Hermione, who was standing in front of her in line, looked back at her, penetrating brown eyes inspecting her curiously.

Of course, Hermione had been looking at her curiously every since noticing the odd reaction of both Neville and Malfoy. Well she could be as curious as she bloody well wanted, Altair had no intention of explaining anything. Some gossipy student would undoubtedly tell her the whole bloody story soon enough.

"_Ms. Black!_ Come on up, if you please." McGonagall's voice rang out impatiently. Quietly and composedly she began to walk towards the front of the room. Most of the room watched her with either suspicion, hatred or (in the case of the muggleborns) confusion. Only the teachers made an effort to appear unbiased and of them only Dumbledore appeared completely unbothered, relaxed and friendly in his deep purple robes.

Lifting the hat off the stool, she sat down and jammed the hat onto her head. "_Well!_" an annoyed voice echoed through her head. "_You needn't be so violent. I'm not the one causing your problems._" Altair focused on sitting straight and keeping her face impassive. Amusement emanated from the presence in her head. "_Such anger and an impressive control over that anger for one so young. You aren't overly fond of the wizarding world are you girl?_"

_Well_, thought Altair, _would you be if you were in my family's position? We're all outcasts. We've no reason to like the world that ostracizes us._

The hat hummed thoughtfully. "_Perhaps not. In any case, it is not necessary for you to justify yourself to me. My job is to decide where you belong, nothing more, nothing less. So which house will it be…_"

The hat lapsed into thoughtful silence, though how it managed to convey this via thought was beyond Altair. Finally it spoke again, this time in a musing tone.

"_You are brave and unflinchingly loyal to those who you deem worthy of loyalty, your family for instance, but these are not your defining traits. You are intelligent and your thirst for knowledge is matched by few, you would do well in Ravenclaw… but beyond that you are resourceful and ruthlessly ambitious in achieving your aims. A true Black— and as such there is only—"_

_No!_ Altair thought coolly, _you won't be sending me there_. _I would do well in Ravenclaw, you said so yourself. You send me to Slytherin and everyone's expectations of me are fulfilled. I would forever be a dark witch, one with every intention of following the family tradition, which in their eyes is torturing people for sport and betraying friends to Voldemort. And anyway I couldn't bear spending the next seven years in close quarters with the gits like Snape and Malfoy. I absolutely refuse—_

Amusement radiated from the hat. "_You would fit in Slytherin, that little outburst confirmed it for me, such nerve could exist only in either a true Gryffindor or a true Slytherin and you are not a Gryffindor._" it continued rather dryly, "_or at least I'm reasonably sure, but what do I know— I've only been sorting students like you for centuries. I'm only a silly hat really._"

_Doesn't mean you know where I should where I should go, _Altair returned belligerently.

The hat somehow managed to give off the impression of indulgent amusement.

"_You Blacks," _it began "_are all the same, I am never sure if it is nature or nurture. Do you know how hard your father fought to placed in some house besides Slytherin? I gave in to him. I felt that it would do him good to be a Gryffindor but you? You're a Slytherin pure and simple, I won't be changing my mind. The reasons you cited for why you should be placed in some other house where barely worth consideration. You, I'm positive, are capable of handling both Snape and Malfoy and what do you care about how the wizarding world sees you? You hate them for their treatment of magical creatures such as your uncle, you despise their blind and obstinate refusal to see what is before their very eyes. Its all here in your head. You think they are ridiculous and stagnated— and you're not far wrong."_

_True,_ Altair conceded, _but—_

"_But nothing my dear you will do well in—_

"SLYTHERIN!"

The house in question broke into restrained applause. Its students watched her with calculating, questioning eyes. Severus Snape stared down it her with poorly concealed dislike but also triumph.

Altair supposed that he considered this a victory over her supposedly disappeared father. The rest of the hall watched with the satisfied expressions of stupid people who feel that they have had their suspicions confirmed and can now stop thinking altogether. The daughter of the notorious betrayer, the Death Eater, Sirius Black, was going to Slytherin; all was right in the world. Only the teachers, Hermione and, oddly enough, Neville watched her speculatively.

Altair shut her eyes in resignation. Padfoot was going to have kittens, an impressive feat for a male homo sapien sapien. She would be spending the next seven years under the direct authority of a teacher who hated her guts in a school full of students who also hated her guts. At least her name would buy her enough respect and fear within the Slytherin house itself.

She made her way over to the Slytherin table as confidently as possible. She'd held up the sorting long enough.

Hermione watched curiously the reactions that rippled through the room in at Altair's name. She'd had a feeling that there was some story behind it after both Malfoy and Neville's responses to her but neither they nor Altair had volunteered an explanation and Hermione had been left in the dark.

If she hadn't already had suspicions this response would have been shocking. What in the world could an eleven year old girl have done to deserve that looks of hatred and disgust etched onto the faces of the students of Hogwarts?

Logically, Hermione knew that there was nothing that could justify this reaction. She thought it probably had something to do with the girl's family. The name Black obviously tended to evoke explosive reactions in the wizarding world.

The family had probably been tied up in the war with Voldemort. A war that was still evidently being fought in the halls of Hogwarts, among the children of the next generation, Slytherins against the rest of the houses.

This struck Hermione as rather ridiculous but also frightening. As a muggleborn, what could she expect from the wizarding world? Now though, she was mostly caught up in pitying Altair. She had seemed like a nice enough girl, if a bit reserved. What had been the crimes of her father or mother? A trip to the library was obviously necessary.

For now she would turn her attention back to the Sorting. She watched, abstractedly as Boot, Terry went Ravenclaw and Brown, Lavender went to Gryffindor, her own preferred house.

Finally it was her turn. _"Well Ms. Granger"_ the hat murmured in her ear _"What House shall I sort you into? You've quite the mind as I can see but there's steel there underneath the studious exterior. You'll be the second brilliant person that I will not sort into Ravenclaw tonight. I'm afraid that your year of Ravenclaws will have to accustom themselves to not being at the top of all of their classes."_

Hermione listened absorbed to the hat's monologue. _Where will I go then?_ She thought at it.

"_Well my dear the chivalry and courage to reserve judgment, to come to a new world completely different from your own and face it, shoulders high makes you eminently suited for—" _"GRYFFINDOR!"

Hermione rose the exuberant clapping emanating from the Gryffindor table echoing in her ears. She had made her preferred House. She just barely stopped herself from skipping to back to the table and even then her gait during her walk to her new house was suspiciously bouncy. She sat down next to one of her year mates— Lily? Lavender? Something like that, thoughts of Altair Black driven firmly from her mind.

Draco Malfoy was (in Altair's humble opinion) a complete moron. Not that she hadn't already been aware of this but after twenty minutes of listening to Malfoy pompously lecture the other Slytherin first years on the benefits of wizarding domination of muggle society and of course his lengthy discourses that all began with "Father says…" or "My father believes…" or "Just the other day Father was telling me…" her beliefs had been confirmed beyond reasonable doubt. His conversation could be summed up in one word, excruciating.

Thankfully Blaise Zabini and Morag McDougall seemed to wholeheartedly agree with her. The three of them had bonded over their shared disdain for Malfoy's barely thought out opinions and lack of engaging conversation, so the last twenty minutes had been more agreeably engaged in discussion of professors and classes.

Blaise was thin, dark and elegant and rather annoyingly superior but knew quite a lot about wizarding history and society and therefore proved interesting to talk to.

Morag was short and scowling with a thick Scottish accent she wore her long dark brown hair in a thin braid that stretched down her back almost to her waist. She had some fascinating stories about magical creatures as her family were the wardens of an ancient magical forest nearly as extensive as the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts. Altair thought that she could grow to like them and felt rather more optimistic about her chances of enjoying her housemates in Slytherin, Malfoy aside.

Aside from Malfoy her housemates were mostly purebloods from the older, darker families and those wary and abused children that Slytherin house seemed to attract. Children from less than optimal homes who knew what it was to be afraid of those in authority.

Slytherin House was an odd bunch, cobbled together from the spoiled pureblooded children as well as the broken and scared children of unhappy families, willing, for their own varying reasons, to succeed at any cost. Altair supposed that it would prove to be interesting but would have preferred to go to a more neutral House, Ravenclaw perhaps.

"And what about you? Where're you from?" Altair looked over to Blaise in surprise. She hadn't been expecting the conversation to turn over to her quite so quickly.

"Huh? Oh— London" she answered absently. Blaise nodded.

"Me too" he said. "I live over in Notting Hill. Lovely area, even if it is full of muggles. Where do you live?"

Altair smiled. "Not near any muggles." She replied. Blaise and Morag exchanged looks. They had clearly picked up on her rather evasive response. Oh well, they would assume it was pureblood paranoia. The Black family had something of a reputation for it anyway.

Thankfully, the conversation moved over to Quiditch teams, provoking some fierce debate, as Morag was a fierce Harpies fan, while Blaise preferred the Tornadoes. Altair wasn't terribly fond of Quiditch (to her father's eternal consternation) but fed the flames by supporting both one side and then the other, before settling in to watch the fireworks. She loved how stupid some wizards were over Quiditch.

Pretty soon everyone at the Slytherin table had joined in, much to the amusement of Altair, even the upper forms felt the need join the fray. The debate was conducted in low and intense voices, as was the custom of Slytherin House. In fact the topic lasted them long after the food and plates had disappeared.

Finally it was time for Dumbledore's speech. He stood spreading his arms wide, as if to embrace them all and spoke in ringing tones.

"Ah, another year at Hogwarts. As with every year, there are a few housekeeping announcements before I can send you off to bed, as you all undoubtedly wish. First, all new students would do well to keep in mind that the Forbidden Forest is, in fact, forbidden, a few of our returning students might benefit from remembering this as well. Our good caretaker, Mr. Argus Filch, would like me to remind you that magic, Fanged Frisbees, Dung Bombs, and other items are forbidden in the corridors. A more extensive list of forbidden items may be found in Mr. Filch's office if you are at all confused or unsure and finally, the third floor corridor is closed to anyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Whispers broke out throughout the room. Further down the table, Pansy Parkinson whispered "you don't think he's being serious?" Altair looked at Dumbledore's grave face, there could be no doubt that he was being serious. She felt a thrill of curiosity shoot up her spine. Something queer was happening at Hogwarts this year. She was going to find out what it was if it killed her.


	4. Common Rooms, Malfoys, and Epistolary

Chapter 4

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_Hogwarts is ever so interesting! There are moving portraits and ghosts, the staircases even move! The ceiling of the great hall is transparent. You can see the sky through it! According to Hogwarts a History, the effect was achieved through the exhaustive efforts of Rowena Ravenclaw and has not since been replicated on such a large scale. Apparently she had to modify the charm usually used to create such an effect in order to achieve the sheer scale and longevity necessary. _

_The first thing that happened on our arrival was the Sorting. There are four Houses here at Hogwarts, Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw. Every first year is sorted into one of them in front of the whole school by; get this, a talking hat! The Sorting is tremendously important because it decides where and with whom you will be living, eating, and studying for the next five years._

_Each House has its own reputation. Gryffindors are brave, Ravenclaws are intelligent, Hufflepuffs are kind and fair, and Slytherins are ambitious and clever. Of course, McGonagall makes a point of saying that each House is excellent in its own way but Slytherins are almost universally mistrusted and Hufflepuffs are considered pathetic. Ravenclaw and Gryffindor are considered the most desirable Houses. _

_I've been sorted into Gryffindor "where dwell the brave of heart" (at least according to the Sorting Hat). My housemates are very loud and outgoing (and not terribly concerned with rules) but they are also warm and welcoming and fun so it all balances out. _

_The train ride here was quite interesting. I sat with Neville Longbottom and Altair Black. Neville is very sweet but almost cripplingly shy. He's in Gryffindor with me (I think that we'll be friends). Altair Black, on the other hand, was really odd. She spent the entire train ride drawing and barely looked up once. Most everyone seems completely terrified of her. I think that her family supported You-Know-Who in the war._

_Gryffindor Tower, where all the Gryffindors live, is wonderful! Its walls are covered in red and gold tapestries and it has comfortable dark red furniture, squashy rugs, and a giant fireplace. The effect ought to be garish but somehow manages to be warm and welcoming instead. I think I'm going to like it here._

_Well, I'd better get to bed. I wouldn't want to be tired for my first day of school._

_Love_

_Hermione_

Dear Alphard, Padfoot, and Moony,

Surprise! You are now the proud parents of a Slytherin (Padfoot please don't explode, it isn't good for your blood pressure). Yes, I am in fact stuck in the same house as Draco Malfoy for the next seven years, more is the pity. Please take care of Hedwig if I kill Malfoy and spend the rest of my life in Azkaban, same thing if Snape kills me (which judging by the way her glared at me all evening is something he desperately wants to do). I spent most of the feast talking to Blaise Zabini and Morag MacDougall, the only two Slytherins in my year that weren't sucking up to Draco Malfoy. I think Blaise decided that between the two of us I was the more powerful ally but Morag at least seems to genuinely enjoy my company and want to be friends.

After the feast the prefects marched us down through what felt like interminable corridors to the Slytherin Common Room. The room is located not in the dungeons (as popular belief would have it) but in the way back of the castle where the grounds give way to forest.

The defenses on the room are immensely powerful, as I'm sure you're aware from years spent pranking Slytherins. The room is surrounded by thick swathes of defensive enchantments and notice-me-not charms. This combined with powerful repelling wards makes the room almost unfindable by anyone not previously aware of its location. On top of that the entire thing is hidden in the most obscure and tiny corridor in the entire castle. It can only be accessed through a tiny passageway hidden with multiple illusions. Apparently, we're a paranoid bunch here in Slytherin.

The Common room itself is lovely, all done up in dark elegant woods and graceful greens and silvers. It is airy and light and opens up onto a walled garden hidden within the Forbidden Forest itself. The room is circular and the walls are plastered over and painted a creamy shade of white in between beams are intricately carved with snakes, leafy vines and flowers. It was actually quite a shock. I was expecting a dank, dark dungeon from all of your stories about Slytherins. Do I detect a slight bias?

Anyway, once we were all inside the Common Room, Snape swept in. He's really got that ominous, bat of the dungeons act down to an art. I think he does it to scare us all into obedience. He launched into a speech about how the first rule of fight club is you do not talk about fight club, kidding but the general message was that it was Slytherin House against the world. I can see why Slytherin is so isolated, we all know that the rest of the school dislikes and distrusts us so we turn inward and only trust and support our housemates. We're insular and paranoid and we hide everything that is admirable in ourselves. I think that I'll fit in here just fine.

The dormitories are connected to the Common Room by narrow stone tunnels are decorated in the manner of the Slytherin Common Room, which is nice. Unfortunately I have to share a room with Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass, a fate that is, I assure you, worse than death. They seem to spend most of their time gossiping about the most trivial things and planning petty little intrigues. I'm not quite sure what I did to deserve prolonged exposure to them. Perhaps I was Hitler in a previous life. Fortunately, Morag is also in my dorm, rendering it at least bearable.

Do try not to be too upset with my sorting. I'm, if not pleased, then at least resigned to my house and it's not as if it was really a surprise for anyone.

Love

Altair

Severus Snape waited until he reached the privacy of his rooms before collapsing tiredly into his shabby (but wonderfully comfortable) armchair. Clasping the bridge of his nose between long potion stained fingers, he tipped his head back in hope of warding off the incipient migraine.

It was just his luck that the Black girl ended up in his House. Even on the run, it seemed that Sirius Black could still torment Severus. It often seemed to Severus like Blacks existed only to plague him at every turn. Why could she not have gone to Minerva's House like her blasted father?

And then of course she had gone on to confound his every expectation of what a daughter of Sirius Black would be like. She was quiet and watchful during his annual introductory speech.

Severus was in the habit of giving a speech to his newly sorted snakes. He found that a well delivered speech had the dual benefits of impressing upon his Slytherins the standards of behavior to which they would held and installing a healthy sense of fear and awe of himself in his charges. Altair Black, however, had neither been intimidated nor belligerent, the two most common reactions he had observed in response to his start of year lecture. She had not fidgeted or whispered. Instead, she had listened and observed quietly and expressionlessly, giving nothing away. Looking into her eyes Severus had seen that she cautious and clever, a Slytherin to the bone- not at all like her impulsive, self-righteous father nor her sainted flea bag of a godfather.

He had never expected that a girl raised by that damned werewolf, Lupin, would go to Slytherin. Indeed, he had taken great comfort in the fact that she would most likely go to Gryffindor or Ravenclaw and leave him only having to deal with her during Potions Class. Worse still, as one of his snakes, he could not torment her as he wished.

He seethed, remembering the way those light green eyes had coolly inspected him. It was only the first night and she was already infuriating him by her very presence. This would not do.

And yet… and yet something about her looks niggled at him. It wasn't just Sirius Black he was seeing- and it was certainly not Electra Malfoy. Severus had known Electra Malfoy, not well of course. She had been a year or two younger than him after all. Nevertheless, she had been in Slytherin, Severus could see nothing of Electra's insipid and flighty looks in the girl.

In all likelihood all of this signified nothing. Many children did not resemble one of their parents… and yet there had been something about the graceful way that she moved and the slanting eyes. They reminded him of someone— someone important.

Severus left it alone. He knew his mind well enough by now to know that if he left the thought alone and didn't worry at it, it would come to him in time. Anyway, he thought, grimacing, he would have plenty of time to get to know the Black girl further.

Instead he turned to the treatise he was writing on the strange effect of moonstone in powerful sedative draughts. The British Journal of Potions would not be pleased if he missed his deadline.

"_Do you think she's ever met him_?"

Altair snorted, Pansy could at least try to conceal her vulgar curiosity, but no, that would be too sensible.

"If by him, you mean my birth father, Sirius Black, then no. Surprisingly enough, being a fugitive takes up most of the time one might spend visiting their unwanted daughter. Furthermore, the fact that my godfather, Uncle Remus would probably tear him limb for limb if he showed up at our home precluded any father-daughter bonding."

Pansy and Daphne jumped as if they had been stung and stared at her, faces pale. Morag, who was lazing around on her emerald green bedspread, sniggered. Altair kept her face blank— people seemed to find it more unnerving than any display of anger. She smiled coldly at the two girls. "Here's a tip, next time you decide to gossip about someone, don't do it while you're in the same room as them."

The two girls nodded meekly. Altair smiled again, enjoying the effect it produced. Morag smirked. "Really Black, watching them flinch and cower is fun but you are going to be living with them for the next seven years. You don't need to terrify them into submission all in one night, pace yourself." Pansy and Daphne sent identical glares in Morag's direction but wisely kept their mouths shut.

Altair only just managed to keep a straight face. It wouldn't do to reassure Pansy and Daphne after all. She intended to carefully cultivate this fear over the next seven years. Instead she began to get ready for bed.

She dug pajamas and toiletries out her trunk and headed into the large communal washroom that would serve their entire room for the next seven years. Once finished with her nightly ablutions, she headed back into the dorm room and threw herself into bed, drawing heavy, green velvet curtain closed. The bed was soft and Altair, exhausted from the long day fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

A soft thump echoed through the room and unwillingly, inexplicably, Morag MacDougall jolted awake. She groaned softly, once up she never went back to sleep— no matter how tired she was. She pulled her curtains back just in time to catch a flicker of wild black curls and dark Hogwarts robes through the open doorway.

Morag looked disbelievingly at the clock— it was 5:30, breakfast didn't start until 8:00, Altair Black, it seemed, was an early riser. Morag yawned widely; Pansy and Daphne had kept her up until late at night giggling and chattering. They had not quieted until Millicent Bulstrode threatened to jinx their mouths shut and remove their vocal cords, through their noses. After the threat had been issued they had become wonderfully silent, but that didn't change the fact that Morag had lost a significant amount of sleep.

Damn her light sleeping habits. Was she going to be woken up and five for the rest of her Hogwarts career? Grumbling quietly she heaved herself out of bed and got ready for the day. She brushed her teeth and hair and tugged on her clothes. Finally pulling her black Hogwarts robes over top to complete the ensemble. Grabbing her book bag, she headed down the corridor into the Common Room.

Looking inside, she saw that Altair in one of the soft green armchairs. Curled up in the armchair, she looked entirely composed of sharp angles. Her long spindly arms and legs gave her the look of a large pale spider. She looked up sharply on Morag's entrance. The expression in her pale eyes was not welcoming.

Morag found herself wondering how it was that an eleven-year girl could look so intimidating. The eyes released her and Altair turned wordlessly back to her book. Okay then, Morag would leave her alone. Sitting down on an adjacent armchair she removed the latest Megan Scribbler novel, Trolls and Turncoats, from her school bag and began to read. Altair Black visibly relaxed back into her chair.

'What is up with this girl?' Morag wondered to herself.

Pale morning light filtered past the trees and flowers of the enclosed garden, through the large glass windows and dappled the room. In the early morning light the room looked even more peaceful. Altair Black sat in an armchair by the fireplace. Even the flames seemed to crackle in a soft way.

She was engrossed in a book of Potions Theory. Altair had never had to be in close contact with so many people for so long in her life. She felt stretched and overwhelmed, rubbed raw by the varied sensations that come of living with many different young children. The calm and empty room, with its high ceiling and pale walls was a soothing balm on her ruffled spirits.

Faint footsteps echoed in the corridor leading to the dorms, she stiffened in disappointment. She had been counting oat least an hour of quiet time and it had only been thirty minutes. Looking up she saw Morag slip into the room. Well Morag was welcome to come in, she wasn't quite as annoying as the other girls in her room, but she had better not expect any conversation. Altair had come in here to read her book. She wasn't going to be drawn into any human interactions at this time of morning.

Thankfully Morag seemed to correctly interpret Altair's mood. She drew a book from her robes, sat down opposite Altair and began to read what looked like a rather frivolous novel with a luridly illustrated cover. They stayed like that, reading in companionable silence for the next two hours as the Common Room gradually filled up. First with older students desperately finishing work assigned for the summer and then students who just wanted to catch up after a summer apart.

At eight Altair put her book in her bag and began to walk to breakfast. Morag followed and together they walked with the stream of students to the Great Hall.

"So…" Morag, apparently weary of silence, began "why'd you get up so early this morning?"

Altair shrugged. The honest answer would be that she was finding the amount of new people surrounding her more than a little uncomfortable after a life spent primarily with the same three people but she certainly wasn't going to tell Morag that.

"I was thinking about purging draughts last night and had an idea about a possible modification as to the preparation of ashwinder eggs and wanted to gauge if it would work."

Well that was mostly true. She had been thinking about purging draughts but that had only been to distract herself from how much she missed her own bed and her room at home. Anyway, Morag didn't need to know that.

She winced as Draco Malfoy's self important voice echoed down the corridor, presumably extolling the virtues of himself and of Malfoys in general. Morag, noting her wince smiled wryly at her.

"You realize that you're going to be in close contact with him for the next seven year right?"

Altair shot her an impatient look. "Yes, so?"

Morag grinned. "So you might want to get to the point where you don't flinch whenever her opens his mouth."

Altair scowled. "He's an imbecile."

Morag smirked. "Well yes, that goes without saying."

"So basically you're saying that because he is irredeemably moronic, I should abandon my distaste and enjoy listening to him yammer on about absolutely nothing." Altair shot back.

"No— what I'm saying is that seeing as you won't be able to avoid him, you might try building up some sort of tolerance for him."

Altair frowned, "it might be easier to curse him." Morag raised one dark brow. "No really" she continued. "There are several ways of jinxing his mouth shut or removing it entirely." Morag just looked at her in disbelief. Altair glanced at her.

"No you're right" she mused, "that would be too obvious. Some teacher would remove the curse _and_ I'd probably get in trouble. Maybe a subtle mood-altering curse would do it. Putting him in a persistently morose state would probably make him less inclined to talk—"

"Altair!" Morag interrupted her, hoping to stop this line of thought before it went any further, "I'm pretty sure that something like that could get you in serious trouble— improper use of magic and all of those pesky rules."

Altair scowled. "Everything worth doing, it seems, is considered improper use of magic."


End file.
